Hallo Readers,

There are many reasons to despise Boris Johnson. His lies. His Brexit lies. His lack of conscience. His betrayal of wives, mistresses, colleagues. His bluster. His failure to master his brief. But Johnson has now plumbed new depths with his negligence and his arrogance exposing a British woman to the risk of years in an Iranian prison, yet refusing to apologise. Worse still, he is unsackable – and he knows it.

Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe lived, and please God, will again live, in Hampstead, North London, with her husband Richard and their daughter Gabriella, now aged three. He is an accountant, she works as a project manager for the charitable arm of Thomson Reuters. On 16 March 2016, Nazanin, who has dual British and Iranian nationality, took Gabriella to visit her parents for the Iranian New Year. On 3 April 2016, she was arrested, spending most of the next nine months in solitary confinement. Gabriella is still with Nazanin’s parents and has been in Iran for so long that she has forgotten all her English, whilst Richard’s Farsi is less than fluent, making phone calls difficult. In September 2016, Nazanin was sentenced to five years in prison for “allegedly plotting to topple the Iranian regime”, after a “trial” without legal representation or any details about the charges against her.

In the 14 months since taking office, Johnson refused to meet Richard, even in the company of his MP, Tulip Siddiq, although yesterday he graciously changed his mind. As Foreign Secretary, Johnson was clearly briefed that Nazanin had worked for the BBC Media Action’s International charitable project between 2009-2010, which was problematic because the Iranian Government was enraged that the BBC had offered training courses to Iranian journalists, some of whom have been threatened or incarcerated. It was therefore an act of folly for him to tell a Foreign Affairs Committee last week that “If you look at what Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe was doing, she was simply teaching people journalism as I understand it, at the very limit”, not so much adding fuel to the fire as driving an oil tanker into it. After the ensuing uproar, Johnson grudgingly telephoned his Iranian counterpart to say he had been “misrepresented”, but the damage had been done. On Saturday, Nazanin was dragged back to court where Johnson’s comments were cited as proof that she had been engaged in “propaganda against the regime”, which could result in her sentence being doubled.

Any politician, any decent human being, who had wrought such havoc would immediately have apologised to Nazanin and Richard and to Parliament and grovelled to the Iranian Government. But Johnson is far more interested in himself than in a innocent woman, a bereft husband and a little girl separated from both her parents. On Tuesday, he turned up in the Commons, denied all responsibility for what had happened and blamed his critics for “politicising” the issue before eventually conceding that “my words could have clearer”, adding “I’m sorry if any words of mine have been so taken out of context and so misconstrued to cause anxiety to Nazanin’s family.” Any apology beginning with the words “I’m sorry if” is not an apology, it is a fucking insult. Johnson’s was even more insulting because he insisted that the “anxiety” (anxiety? terror is more like it) had been caused by his words being taken “out of context”, which was a blatant lie. (When people claim their words have been taken out of context, they never tell you what the context actually was). In any event, his “apology” made no difference because on Wednesday, Iranian TV announced that Johnson’s initial statement was “an unintended confession”.

May has already lost one Brexiteer Cabinet Minister this week. Priti Patel, “resigned” over her unauthorised contacts with Israel , which she then lied about. Last year Patel famously stood in front of the Brexit Bus promising £350m a week for the NHS. Now she has been thrown under it, replaced by Penny Mordaunt, the other one in the photo, who falsely claimed that the UK could not veto Turkey joining the EU, thus allowing millions of Turks to come over and swamp us all.

However, May needs to balance her tottering Cabinet between Leavers and Remainers and Johnson is a leading Brexiteer and has to stay put. And so, disgracefully, Tories spent the week defending the indefensible, maintaining that Johnson has apologised, which he has not, and that attacks should not be made on the Foreign Office but on Iran. As if they do not know that it is the oafish, preening, Johnson, a man patently unfit for his (or any) role, who is the one under attack; as if they believe that anyone condones Iran’s outrageous conduct. But a Tory Government is far more important than some inconsequential North London family and so they deflect blame, enabling Johnson to pursue his squalid, political ambitions over the freedom and safety of people whose interests he is supposed to protect. Scum always rises to the top. And, in Johnson’s case, it looks like he is staying there whilst Nazanin Zaghary-Ratcliffe languishes in prison. For shame.

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We begin our review of the week’s fashion foul-ups at The Inside Soap Awards in London, always a prime source of sartorial shite, with soap star Gemma Merna wearing House of CB.

House of CB specialises in dressing soap stars in titsy, tawdry clothing, all peekaboo, under-boob and Minge Moments. Hideous.

Next up we have actress Diane Kruger at the Inaugural Indiewire Honors in LA, wearing Dior.

Lederhosen with genitalia curtains, also in leather. Yurgle. Meanwhile, the choker makes Diane’s head seem attached to her neck with masking tape.

This is French actress Josephine de la Baume, at the London premiere of Murder on the Orient Express, wearing Self-Portrait.

This looks like a half-knitted sweater Granny had to abandon unexpectedly when her false teeth fell out and she got distracted. As for the shoes, they are simply beyond hideous.

Next up is singer Mary J. Blige at the Hollywood Film Awards, wearing Zuhair Murad.

Like a circus ringmaster with nipple pasties.

Here is the thing about nipple pasties. You should not wear them because you should not be wearing anything needing nipple pasties. But if you do need them, let them at least be the same colour as your nipples. That is all there is to be said about nipple pasties.

And now the Country Music Awards 2017 in Nashville, where horror is always in abundance.  Here is actor and singer Rudy Mancuso.

Who lent him that bomber jacket – Giant Haystacks?

More nonsense in the shapes of LoCash, aka Chris Lucas (left) and Preston Brust.

WTF cannot work out what is happening with Chris’ shirt and his trainers are to be deplored whilst Preston seems to have based his look on the late Jackie Collins.

Finally, singer Maren Morris wearing Francesco Scognamilio.

This seems to be made out of plastic poultry wire with a frilly overhang, genitalia curtains and some nasty growths around the waist, like exploding pustules. And those accessories! Maren’s stylist needs a slap, a P45 and another slap.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF of Islington, who remains aghast at the stupidity of Americans who cling stubbornly to the Second Amendment and then express shock when psychopaths exercise their inalienable right to shoot strangers in churches and schools. The biggest prick of the week was former Congressman, and current radio loudmouth, Joe Walsh (emphatically NOT the one from The Eagles) who tweeted this the day after 26 people were murdered WHILST AT PRAYER in a Baptist chapel in Sutherland Springs, Texas:

You all remember the Bible passage in which the Good Lord sanctions the right to carry a gun (first invented 1364 A.D.) It is in the Book of Colossian Pricks. Hallelujah! 

He (Joe, not the Good Lord) has SO Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep those comments coming in as WTF values them like anything.  And please don’t forget your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go.  Let us meet again next Friday. Be good.